Giftland
by Candyola95
Summary: The year is 2075. The 79 year old woman lives in Giftland; which was once the United States. Deserae Lydia Addams- Gleason tells the tragic downfall of the United States when Germany takes over. This short story also tells the horriffic tragedies in her life. What happens in the end will leave you speechless.


Giftland

I awoke to hysterical laughter. My husband is slowly stroking my left hand with his thumb while laughing at the jokes my mom was telling. The luggage in the back of the minivan slid a little every time my mom turned the wheel. I picked my head up from the side of the window and wiped the drool of the side of my face.

"Are we there yet?" I asked dazed.

"Not yet, Deserae. We will be there shortly though." My mom said while looking at me through the rear view mirror.

I couldn't wait. I felt like an eight year old on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa Claus to come. This was the first vacation my family has ever been on. Even though we lived five hours away, none of us have ever been to Chicago before. My mom and brother were sitting in the front, my sisters were sitting in the middle row, and Charles and I were in the back row. The radio was on low. Thank goodness because I didn't like a single song on the station. We finally arrived to the hotel. It was an average three star hotel. It was cozy for being in the city which I appreciated very much because it had a lived-in home feeling. Our rooms were on the 20th floor. We went back out to the minivan to get out luggage. Paul didn't zip his bag closed all the way and when he plopped it down to close the truck a few pairs of his brief Polo underwear fell out onto the pavement. Everyone started laughing at him. He was scrambling to pick them up and put them back in his bag.

"I haven't seen you move that fast in 20 years." I murmured before laughing again.

"Shut up, Deserae!"

"I love you too, Paul."

"You two are acting like kids. Pull yourselves together." She said in a tone that wasn't convincing.

"Yes, mom." Paul and I said in unison.

The rest of the family turned and walked back into the lobby with their suitcases. Paul finally had his personal belongings back in his bag and we glanced at each other with a smile. I stuck my tongue out at him and ran into the lobby. Paul followed right behind me. He couldn't get to me in time though; I beat him to the elevator. We were cramped inside but at least we were able to go up together. We split into four rooms. Mom and Paul got their own room, Taylor and Denise were going to share and Charles and I had our own room. We split from the rest of the family and went into our room to unpack and get settled before we went sight-seeing. I moved the window treatments and opened the windows so I could see the phenomenal city skyline. I was in awe. Then out of nowhere I saw a huge flash of light followed by a thunderous rumble. Then everything faded to black.

I awoke from my worn down cot. The algid, January air filled the small hut. I removed the thin cover on my cot and got up. I sluggishly moved to the table and sat down. I grabbed my journal from the middle of the small table and a pen and started to write in my journal.

Journal 57 Entry #1

I had the dream again. I wish it would stop haunting me. I can't even sleep without being tormented with memories; memories that never even happened. I don't know why I have the dream. I never went to Chicago. My mom and sisters went without Paul, Charles, and I. Maybe it is because I regret not going on the trip with them. But if I had I would have been dead for nearly 50 years now. It was my birthday and I just wanted to spend a little time with my newlywed husband. I don't remember why Paul didn't go. I think he threw a fit because I wasn't going. Paul, Charles, and I were all at my house in Saint Louis when we heard the news about the bombings. We knew immediately they were gone. There was no where we could go or hide. We lived in the radiation zone. The news said it would take about eighteen hours before it got to Saint Louis. We could have tried to leave Saint Louis but traffic was at a standstill. The news reporters told citizens to stay here. So why I keep having this dream where I was in Chicago confuses me. America broke out into a war with Germany and lost. Everything is gone now. We were basically sent back to the stone ages and America is no more. This country is now Giftland and is run by Germany. Giftland is translated as Poison Country. At the time of the takeover many Americans didn't even know that. The land of the free has now been tainted by poisonous air, gases, and allegations towards us. Only the strong survive. I just wish things would be the way they were before the takeover. Out of all my seventy-nine birthdays, my 30th birthday was one to remember.

Deserae Lydia Adams- Gleason (Cornelia Adelchi)

I closed the journal and looked at my right hand. It felt as if Charles was holding my hand. I looked out the door of my small hut and knew it was time to get ready for work. Today I remembered I only had to work ten hours today. I was overjoyed at the thought. Usually I have to work fourteen hours a day, but since my eightieth birthday is in a couple days the boss of the sewing mill is letting me work reduced hours for a few days. I threw on some decent clothes I got from the mill a couple years ago and combed my fingers through my long gray hair and tied it with a small scrap of unused fabric. The hut that I have lived in for almost 50 years was anything but pleasant to look at or be in. The main purpose of the hut was to sleep in it, house a few clothing articles, and keep me out of the rain and snow. No mirrors, hair brushes, toothpaste, heating, air conditioning, or cooking utensils. Nothing. Just a small desolate room. On my way to the mill, I stopped by Amaranda Dunston's hut. She lived about a half mile away from me. We walked to the mill, went through the front doors, and stood in line and waited for the boss to do roll call. If you didn't show up for work when you were scheduled, you would be reported to the German soldiers and they would hunt you down and kill you and even sometimes your entire family at the house. It happened to my former neighbors the Earnest's. The father was ill and didn't show up for work when he was scheduled and he, his wife, and baby were all killed. The baby's parents were killed by rapid firing of guns and then the German officers raided the hut and found their three week old baby. The officers had the baby's head crushed by the boot heel of a soldier. After work I went back to Amaranda's hut with her. She is just a few years younger than me. Her American name is Elizabeth Kearns, but she preferred me to call her Amaranda because she didn't want us to risk getting caught by the German soldiers. I left her house after being there for about an hour. I just got back to my hut when it got dark. There was a small portion of food by the door of the hut.

"At least the soldier who disperses food was generous today,"

I really meant it too. I got a plate with about a fist full of rice, two slices of tomatoes, and a sliver of meat that was about the size of two fingers on my weary, worn down hand. This was a feast for me. I never get this much food. Especially because I am older and I live by myself. I savored every bite on that plate. I know what it is like to be hungry and for the first time in years I felt as though I was Royalty. This plate doesn't even compare to what I use to eat, but yet I still feel as though this was the best food I had eaten in my life. After I had finished eating, I put the plate outside my door, strolled back into the house, and pulled out my journal and started to write Journal Entry #2. Once I had finished I went to my cot and said my nightly prayers.

"Dear God. This past year has been a test. I know you have been testing me, and I feel that you rewarded me with the food I got today. I know that life is a test and that you are going to test me to the day that I die. I know that many people in Giftland lost faith in you but I never did, and I want you to know that I will always have faith in you. Amen."

I stretched out in my cot and fell asleep instantaneously. I stir to a frantic knock on the door. My muscles ached with pain as I moved from my worn cot to the door. I opened the door and it was Amaranda. She looked as though had been crying. I pulled her into the hut, looking around to see if anyone else had seen her come in, then closed the door. She was sitting on my bed and motioned for me to come towards her. And I did. She tugged on my arm slightly and I sat down my eyes meeting her eyes. She had pain in them. I could tell by the way she was looking at me that what she had to tell me wasn't going to be good.

"Cornelia. I have some very bad news. Being your friend and all I don't know how to tell you this."

"What is it Amaranda? You can tell me anything. You know that," I said sleepily.

Tears began falling as if her eyes had sprung a leak. She paused for a moment and collected herself, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"It's about your brother."

I knew right where this was going. Something happened to my older brother. The only person I had left in the world. My stomach dropped.

"Your brother gave you extra helpings of food yesterday. When he was questioned about it, he lied and was sentenced to death. He was tied to a chair in the hut and the soldiers burned the hut down with him in it. I witnessed it when I was walking back from the pond to get water to wash up before I went to work. I came here as fast as I could. "

I felt sick. My brother lost his life by giving me extra food. The thought was unsettling. I felt like I could lose the dinner I had the night before everywhere on the floor around me, but I realized then my brother would have died for nothing. I began to feel light-headed, and before I knew it I was out cold. I could faintly hear in the distance Amaranda saying my name and trying to wake me, but it was a lost cause. I woke up in the hut alone. I imagined that Amaranda had left for work. By looking at out the door I could tell that I didn't need to leave for work for another two hours. I had grabbed my journal and sat on my cot. I pulled my quilt on my lap and started another entry.

Journal 57 Entry #3

Is this another test? I have nothing left. Nothing left to live for. It isn't in my nature to give up. But in times like these you have to stand up with a strong upper lip. Even if you aren't feeling strong, fake it. And fake it well. My brother was all I have had the past 45 years since my husband passed away from Leukemia, and now he is gone because he loved me and wanted to do something really nice for me. The way he died was not fair. He didn't deserve that. He was 87 years old. Even now when I am at my weakest, I will not give up on God. He will see me through. If I show any signs of weakness, I too will die an unfortunate death. The soldiers will be more than willing to take my life like they have so many others. Paul, I love you and miss you already. Thank you for being my friend and my older brother. Especially for staying with me through thick and thin with everything that has happened the past 50 years. I promise your death will not be in vain.

Your forever grateful little sister,

Deserae Lydia Adams-Gleason (Cornelia Adelchi)

I closed the diary and wrapped it in my arms, holding it to my chest and squeezing it with what force my old body gave me. I set it on my cot and got ready for work and then left. I made it with ten minutes to spare. The sewing mill has a clock in it. I don't have a clock in my hut, neither does anyone else. We can tell for the most part what time it is by the light and the positioning of the sun. When I walked in the building, there was a new lady that caught my eye. She looked to be the same age as Amaranda and myself. It was refreshing to see someone else our age. Most people who work in the mill are much younger than me, except for Amaranda. I was so surprised to see the new lady here that I didn't even notice Amaranda standing next to her showing her the ropes. I walked over to them and introduced myself. Her name was Herlinda Verräter. Her name caught me off guard. Her first name is translated as sweet and pleasant, but her last name is translated as traitor. I tried not to think about it too much, but the whole time Amaranda and I worked with her helping her get set up, I couldn't help but think about it. She seemed to be tolerable, but I had this bad feeling about her. I figured it was because of what happened to my brother. After we helped her get settled, Amaranda and I were walking back over to our work station when I pulled her over to the side.

"I have a funny feeling about her. Something just doesn't sit right with me. She seems nice, but I think she is up to no good."

"You had the feeling too?"

"Of course I had the same feelings toward her. I want you to come over to my hut today and check her out with me. I hate to think that we are just being paranoid, but I would like to be sure that she isn't up to anything funny."

"That is the last thing we need is someone poking in our personal business. Okay I will be over. I will be a little late with the snow on the ground outside, but I will be there."

"Thank you, Amaranda," I murmured. I gave her a slight hug and we continued toward our workstation.

After work, I had Herlinda Verräter follow me home. She lived a few huts from me. With the snow in the ground, it took an extra twenty minutes to get to my hut. I opened the door for her and let her in. I followed behind her, closing the door so the snow wouldn't get in. I turned to her.

"Would you like me to take your jacket?"

"I would like that very much," she said eagerly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I took her jacket and inspected it while I was putting it up. It was much better quality than my jacket. It was better quality from anything I have seen in a long time, and the fabric and stitching was exquisite. I started to wonder how she got it. I put both of our jackets in a small wooden box on the other side of the room. I turned around and Herlinda was sitting on my bed. She looked as though she had seen a ghost.

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine. I just forgot that I had something I had to do after work today. I am truly sorry, but I can't stay."

"But you just got here," I stated in awe.

"I know. I am truly sorry. Can you bring me my jacket? I need to be getting on my way."

"Certainly."

I bent down slowly and fetched her jacket from the box. I strolled over to her and handed her jacket to her. She put it on and scurried out the door not saying anything. She was an interesting character. Everything about the encounter I just had with Herlinda screamed trouble. I just knew it. Shortly after Herlinda Verräter left my hut, Amaranda got here. She had to go to her hut and get her dinner off the porch before the snow completely ruined it. I told her what had happened as soon as she walked through the door. She thought it was strange too. We both decided then that we were going to keep our distance from her. After about an hour of talking with Amaranda, she left and headed home. I ate my dinner and got in my cot after prayer. I felt like I was forgetting something; I usually never forget anything. After a while, my thoughts were overwhelmed with the encounter I had with Herlinda Verräter this evening and the death of my brother. My eyes started to spring a leak just as Amaranda's did when she told me about my brother. I cried for a while. I realized that this is the first time I have showed any type of emotion over the loss of my brother. I felt better after I cried, but I noticed my hands were shaking. I wasn't bottling it up anymore. I fell asleep briskly after that.

I woke up to the morning sunlight shining in my face through the small window across the room. It was January 22nd. I got up from my cot, aching muscles and all, and walked towards the window. The snow had already started melting. I heard a knock on the door. I turned from the window, and moved towards the door. I put my hand on the knob, but I couldn't grip it enough with one hand to twist it open. I brought my other hand up to the doorknob and twisted it enough to get the door open.

"Frau Cornelia Adelchi?" asked the commanding German officer.

"Ja. Was machen Sie hier?" I asked. I really wanted to know why they were here.

"Wir haben Grund zu glauben, dass Sie gemacht haben, und hat illegale Dinge hier drinnen geschrieben, der Verrat unter den Umständen bedacht werden könnte. Wir sind hier, Ihre Hütte zu prüfen, zu sehen, wenn die Behauptungen wahr sind."

My eyes got wide. They are here because of they know I have been writing illegal journals. He pulls a journal out of his jacket. It was Journal #57. The most recent journal I had started writing in. _How did he get that? How did he find out about my Journals?_ Then it hit me. The thing I forgot the night before. I forgot that I left my journal on my cot and Herlinda Verräter must have seen it and glanced inside when I was looking over her jacket. She stole it. No wonder she was in a rush last night. She must have been an informant for the German government.

"Männer suchen die Hütte!" ordered the commanding German officer.

A group of fifteen soldiers walked into my 20ft hut and started tearing it apart. One officer flipped over my cot. Another officer was going through my worn down clothes. I glanced at the commanding officer. He was a serious man, I could tell. He looked as though he hadn't had a reason to smile in years. My reverie was interrupted by a screaming soldier.

"Wir haben die Journale gefunden."The worst scenario just happened. The German soldiers found my journals.

"Wie viele von ihnen ist dort?" asked the commanding German officer.

"Über Fünfzig sieht es wie aus." said a few German soldiers. There were more than fifty journals. I couldn't move. Everything around me was moving in slow motion.

"Frau Adelchi, gut haben Sie Verrat eingesetzt. Seien Sie bereit, die Folgen zu leiden. Nehmen Sie sie weg!"

I collapsed to my knees. I couldn't believe what the commanding officer said. He told me that I committed treason and that I must suffer the consequences. Then he told the soldiers to take me away. The thought of me being accused of treason was unsettling to me. I was terrified. All I did was write in journals. Two of the soldiers grabbed my arms and lifted me off the floor. They walked out of the house with me and down the cold snowy road to their base. They put me in a trifling cell with nothing in it but an insignificant window. I was forced to sit and sleep on the cold floor. I was not even allowed a blanket. I fell asleep on the hard cold floor, shortly before my birthday.

I woke up to a soldier opening my cell door. Today was my 80th birthday. Gustus Schmitler is probably bombing random parts of Giftland right about now. It isn't a pleasant thought. So many innocent people out there being killed for no reason all because a man with authority has hatred towards this "country and all the inhabitants in it". The soldier walked up to me and helped me up. I was so stiff and sore. I elongated my body and stretched the best I could. The soldier grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the cell. We marched slowly down the long corridor and out the front door of the base. There was a line of about fifteen people lined up on the ground. The soldier walked me up to the line and had me kneel down on the ground. Two other soldiers came up to me and one tied my hands in front of my body. I looked down at my hands, knowing that this was the last time I would see them. My hands were veiny and my knuckles were swollen like they always were. Something was different about my hands. They weren't shaky. I remember my hands being shaky when I wrote my first entry in journal #57 and when I cried on my cot about my brother's death. They were always shaky when I thought about death. The second soldier interrupted my reverie by blindfolding me. I started to get nervous. My hearing senses heightened and I was able to focus on what was going on around me. I could hear people crying, begging, and yelling at the officers. I didn't know what to do. I heard a familiar voice. It was the commanding German officer that was at my hut yesterday. He started yelling over everyone telling them that they have been found guilty of crimes that are punishable by death according to Giftland laws, and that we would be killed execution style. Then it got really quiet. I broke the silence.

"Dear God, forgive me for the sins I have committed. I except that this is the plan you have for me," Out of nowhere I heard gunshots coming from an automatic gun and people started screaming, but I continued with the prayer. "For the past fifty years to this day you have tested me and I hope you see that I tried to be the best person I could be. I want you to know that I have faith and I surrender myself to you. A… "

Journal 57 Entry #4

I heard what had happened to you, Deserae. I am so sorry. Herlinda Verräter found the journal and turned you in. The soldiers left your journals in the hut, so I took them. I think you would have wanted it that way. The reason I am writing in your journal is because I felt that your journal would be incomplete without this information. Gustus Schmitler passed away an hour before you were killed. Since he didn't have any children, the Hitler line has ended and a new ruler stepped up: Christian Amsel. He stopped the bombings and is removing the soldiers from Giftland. He claims that he will let Giftland build up population and let the land heal. When Giftland gets to that point, Germany will surrender the land and we can reform America. You were right. Every time I was feeling down and doubting my faith, you told me that God gave the entire nation of Giftland a test. He tested everyone who lived here and we must have passed. We got another chance to make things right. The only reason you died is because the news of Gustus Schmitler hadn't made it to Giftland yet. I won't be the same person I was all those years with Gustus around. I am going to be more open with my emotions. We both struggled with this. Even in your writing, it was very easy to tell you didn't handle emotion well. But after all that we been through, it makes since we were the way we were. I promise that I will live my life to the fullest under the new promising circumstances. I want to be more like you.

Your long-time best friend,

Elizabeth Kearns


End file.
